


Cold Communications

by akiresu



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 22:36:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17212124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akiresu/pseuds/akiresu
Summary: After the Avengers/X-Men war, the burden of Emma Frost's broken powers has grown too painful to bear. Can she pull herself back from the brink before she self-destructs?





	Cold Communications

There’s only one thing you really notice when you look around the New Xavier School. _It’s a dump._ Magneto, renowned (ex-)supervillain and revolutionary terrorist, doesn’t quite have a propensity for interior decorating. Even if he did, there’s no doubt he’d struggle to make such a place seem amiable. Horrors against mutants were committed in these very walls and, god damn, was it cold. Not chilly. A serious arctic freeze. That’s what happens when you make camp so far up north. _But diamonds don’t feel cold_ , she told herself. And Emma Frost wasn’t feeling much of anything of late.

The students were training. Or relaxing after training. When you live in an abandoned military complex everything is so dour that it gets hard to tell the difference. Everyone’s just as tired and stressed and miserable as they are at any other given time. They aren’t exactly the teaching conditions Emma would like. _At least they’re safe here_. Which is more than could be said for most the mutant schools. The Jean Grey School students always seem happier though. No doubt they’ll all be dead the moment Headmistress Pryde slips up on some paperwork, but they seem happier. Younger. You could be mistaken for thinking they were actual children. You can’t make that mistake in the New Xavier School, no no. Even those who aren’t already adults (“Why _is_ Hijack here at all?”, Emma would constantly ask herself) seemed to grow significantly older and jaded under Scott’s training regime. He wasn’t the man she used to know. But not because he had changed, not really. But because now he was unknowable. Where once Emma’s psychic powers gave her access to every dimension of Scott Summers’ real, she now could only glean the most basic, surface elements of his psyche. It was almost like being human.

It’s been some time since the Avengers/X-Men war, since the Phoenix, but it was a wound still fresh on Cyclops’ team of revolutionary mutants. For a fleeting moment, they had known what it was to be more than themselves. They were punished with becoming even less than they were before. Their reputations tattered, their friends alienated, their powers broken and none of them feeling that burden more than Emma Frost. She suffered her indignation silently, of course, but she suffered nonetheless.

_Miss Frost_. The sudden psychic intrusion shocked her off her feet. As she hit the ground, she was sure she heard an accompanying psychic snigger. Not quite the intimidating White Queen any longer. _Mr. Summers wanted to see you in the Meeting Room._ The voice ringing through her head was that of the Stepford Cuckoos, who nowadays only seemed able to agree on one thing: how much they hated their “mother”. _Brats_ , Emma thought to herself. They were once her finest, most beloved students. Now she couldn’t help but resent them back. Their psychic hive-mind was as powerful as ever, a haunting reminder of what Emma is supposed to be. For all her re-training, aspects of her telepathy that were once took for granted still seemed locked away from her.

Reaching the Meeting Room, Emma noticed that Scott was unflinchingly focused. He didn’t even look up from the screen as he started speaking, “Reports from the mutant underground are saying that mutants in police custody, in Louisiana, have been going missing. Usually, that would be the priority. But, Cerebro’s just detected another new mutant,” Scott paused. Emma thought it could have been a moment of doubt. But she really couldn’t tell. Not without reading his mind. He continued, “Helping these new mutants is our first priority. There’s some kind of interference, so we can’t get a precise location, but it looks like they’re right in the centre of New Orleans. We need to go and get this mutant out before we can even think to do anything else. Standard search and rescue tactics. Then we’ll bring them back here.”

Magik was standing by, ready to transport the team at a moment's notice, but Emma saw there was someone missing from their standard cohort, “Won’t Erik be joining us?”, she asked.

Scott eyed her funnily, “It’s a Saturday. He’s agreed to watch the students.”

“Ah, Michael Xavier rides again,” Emma replied, “I’m ready, let’s go save a mutant.”

In a flash of Magik’s soulsword, the world twisted around them. Gone were the walls of the New Xavier School’s meeting room, spirited away by the stepping disk, and in their place were the bustling streets of central New Orleans.

“One of these days I hope to be something more than the resident mutant taxi,” Magik quipped.

So the search began, but without much direction it was an arduous search. How do you find one person in a community of thousands? _Particularly if that person doesn’t want to be found_. Magik soon grew agitated, and decided that she could cover more ground by herself. She said she’d contact Scott and Emma if she found anything, before teleporting away and leaving her teammates on their own.

The day turned to night, with the mutant’s search eventually leading them to a rundown old apartment building. It had clearly been deemed unfit for human habitation, but the places humans dare not sink to tend to be where you find the mutants. As they crossed the entrance, the silence was deafening. Neither Emma nor Scott had said anything meaningful to each other the entire night. For someone who had once experienced every slight whim or inclination of those around her, this was slow torture to Emma Frost. She was somewhat unaware, though, of the stories all around her. Cracks and tears and signs of time’s decay belied life and memory. The apartment walls were talking, only no one was listening.

Whilst examining one of the few open rooms, Scott noticed there was something sticking out from under the dresser. It was a framed photograph, clearly knocked over and forgotten about, which Scott picked up and examined. It showed a man and woman, each with a baby in their arms. They looked happy.

“Hm,” he responded.

Emma twitched. She looked over to the photo and asked, “What is it?”

Scott placed the photograph back on top of the dresser, “Nothing,” he said and left the room. Emma tried to get into his head. Literally, at first, but after receiving only psychic backlash attempted empathy. What was Scott thinking? Did the photo make him think about her? The life, the future, they could have had, if she hadn’t betrayed him in Phoenix-induced furor? Or was he thinking again about that wretched Jean Grey? Were the photo’s children making him think of his own son, Nathan? Or were the children supposed to be himself and his brother, Alex, before their life detoured far from normal and whilst they could still enjoy being a family? _Damn it. Why the hell is this so hard?_

Emma followed Scott out of the room, asking, “Something to share with the class, Mr. Summers?” She had made the attempt to cover her anxiousness with jaded levity, but it had less bite than usual; no small part because it was delivered with sputter, instead of snark.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied. 

Emma stopped as Scott walked ahead. Tears started streaming down her face, but she could still stop herself from speaking. She was still in control. She was fine. She remembered how easy this all used to be. She remembered his hands cupping her face. She remembered the hallways of his mind and how safe they felt. She looked around the only hallway she could see. It was dishevelled, ruined and the walls were falling apart. When Scott turned to look at her, Emma couldn’t hold back any longer.

She burst out loud, “Just tell me!”, and immediate regret washed over her. Scott pulled away, shocked by Emma’s distress, and, in that moment of distance, Emma fled. Humiliated by her own emotions, she ran back through the dank corridors, collapsing on her knees in a corner. It was an unglamorous sight, as she sputtered amongst the dirt. She could feel her heart beating, hard and fast, promising to shatter her chest. She could feel the heat rushing to the front of her face and she could feel freezing shivers run up her spine. Her breaths were getting shorter. And weaker. Her lungs were heaving, but it was like there was no air moving in or out. _Oh god_ , Emma thought, _I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe._

Scott tentatively approached from behind, “Emma? What’s wrong? Are you...”

She stood up, immediately, and Scott watched as the back of her head shifted from blonde hair to hard diamond. Her body transformed entirely and, no longer feeling like she was breaking apart, Emma walked straight past Scott and out into the corridor. Her diamond form didn’t just cut her off from her emotions, it cut her off from the remnants of her psychic powers. She may feel cold, empty, but like this she can at least experience quiet. The stray thoughts she’d pick up could often be worse than telepathic silence itself.

Scott ran after her, grabbing hold of her arm. She turned to him, and her free arm came swinging towards his face in response. He caught it, firm and stern, holding her in a way he was never supposed to. Emma shook herself free, but their faces remained mere inches apart- his flesh, hers still diamond. Their stare held, an intense look shared between people who had been both so close together and were now so far apart. It held until they were both jarred back to their surroundings by a noise from above. The silence between them had been interrupted by the sounds of creaking floorboards, perhaps under the scuttering of feet, coming through the ceiling. The tension dissipated, Emma pulled herself from her diamond form and the two X-Men returned to their mission.

When they reached the upper level, they realised they had found their new mutant at last. Only it wasn’t one new mutant. It was two. Twins, it seemed, who were cowering in the corner of an apartment. Hiding, no doubt. Scott and Emma were about to say something to them when they looked at them properly. Two boys, one had no mouth and the other had no ears. Without the Stepford Cuckoos, and with Emma’s telepathic powers in the shape they’re in, there seemed no way to talk to them. No way to assuage their fears, either, as the sudden appearance of darkly-clad strangers was clearly upsetting the children. _God, they can’t be older than 10_ , Emma thought.

Scott addressed the boy with ears, but no mouth.

“It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you. We want to help.”

The boy with a mouth, but no ears, responded “Who are you?”. Scott and Emma were taken aback.

“Can you hear us?”, Scott asked.

“No, but he can,” the boy signalled to his mouthless brother.

“We’re the X-Men,” Emma started, “We’re like you. Mutants. And we want to help.”

Scott removed his mask, covering his eyes with a spare pair of ruby-quartz glasses from his pocket, and kneeled down to meet the boys’ eyeline.

“My mutant gifts mean I have to keep my eyes covered. I have optic force blasts, but I can’t control them.”

The boys body language started to open up, “Have they always been that way?”, they asked.

“No.”

“Do you miss… before?”

“Yes.”

“We miss it too. Things were easier then. But back then we never used to get on. We’re much closer now.”

“We can help you. We have a safe haven, just for mutants, where we can train you and your mutant gifts.”

“No”, Emma interrupted, “We’ll take you to some friends of ours. You’ll fit in better at the _Jean Grey School_.” Scott moved to challenge, but Emma stared him down. She knew what she was doing. An abandoned military complex wasn’t the right place for these kids. “Would you like that?”, she asked. The children both nodded.

“Right”, Scott resigned, “Magik, if you could.”

She moved to stand next to the two new mutants.

“Not to worry, this won’t hurt,” Magik smirked, “Much,” and with a swing of her sword teleported away, leaving Scott and Emma alone again.

They came down out of the building and, exhausted, collapsed onto a bench. As they watched the sunlight break through the clouds, the once-couple realised that their mission had taken them all night. They were tired. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. Magik returned, the young mutants no longer with her, hopefully on their way to better lives.

Emma looked up at Scott, “What now?”

Scott started solemnly, “Well, now that we’ve helped those kids, we should probably figure out where the rest of Louisiana’s mutants have ended up.”

Magik interjected, “Yeah, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m pretty hungry.”

Scott’s serious look broke into a smile, “Breakfast first.”

The three of them soon found a restaurant just opening. It had a black board outside, listing specials with a white chalk rendition of a pancake stack. The mystery of Louisiana’s missing mutants would be solved, but not on an empty stomach. The staff seemed somewhat disconcerted when the three mutants, who were still dirt ridden and dressed in intimidating X-Attire, entered, but a homely looking waitress obliged them with coffee and food regardless. In the time between the first sip of coffee and the caffeine actually kicking in, Emma got to thinking. It always seems to be in the quiet moments where there’s this sense of sudden clarity. It’s not so much a fog clearing as it is like pieces of broken glass somehow fitting together again. There’s something in quietness that lets things, detached from all the loud noise and confusion, to just slip back in place. _It’s either that or tired make brain not think lots_. Regardless, Emma started to understand that she couldn’t just rely on re-training her psychic powers. She needed, first, to learn how to live without them. To not lament their absence, but to appreciate them more. Innate communication, that fundamental knowledge of another person, is supposed to be impossible. It’s nothing short of a miracle for her to have experienced it, and to have seen it again in the new mutants. But normal people have to get through each and every day knowing that they’re never going to fully understand or be fully understood in return. This thought used to scare Emma, but she realised now how liberating it is. She may need to learn how to communicate the hard way, no longer relying on a mutant bypass, but this was a way for her to finally reconnect. She will get to be human again. It’s a daunting task, to move back into the world of people, but starting is never as difficult as it seems to be. In fact, she could start by just asking a question.

“What are you thinking?”, Emma asked Scott.

He replied, “I really like these pancakes”, and they exchanged a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> For Devin.
> 
> Alternative Title - X-Men Origins: Pancakes
> 
> Hope everyone has had a lovely and peaceful holiday season!


End file.
